


0.5

by Far_Away_From_Sane



Series: Thominewt [6]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Minho is a little lonely bug, Minho runs, Newt is Newt, OT3, Thomas and Newt comfort their super manly boyfriend, Thominewt, and Thomas is a baby, i suck at maths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Far_Away_From_Sane/pseuds/Far_Away_From_Sane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't divide three with two without adding decimals, Minho doesn't want to be 0.5, so he runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	0.5

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, this was requested, (well, they requested Minho feeling left out and I tried)

Minho feels lost, like he's stuck in some sort of dream world, he's been running for quite some time now; never stopping. The burning sensation in his legs just makes him push even further, the never ending road seems so inviting, and Minho thinks that if he were to choose one thing to do for the rest of his life, it would be running.

Running from something, running to something, it doesn't matter.The numbness in his legs is pleasant nevertheless. It's almost four in the morning now and Minho can see the sun rising on the horizon, a new day full of new possibilities. Although Minho isn't really feeling the aster.  
The reason he's running this time is because he's running away from something, which he rarely does, this type of running is different. He pushes himself to new extents, tries to dip his toes in new waters. It's different, is what he would describe it as.

The words from yesterday are still running through his head and as they repeat he clenches his fists, forcing his legs to work faster, the simple yet unforgettable words gnawing on his insides like the undead. "Three's an uneven number, you can't divide it even, by two, without adding decimals."

Minho didn't think much of it at first, so what if you couldn't divide three into two without decimals, you could still divide it. But no, the decimals, that's where his mind blanked. If you divide three with two you have 1.5, which means that if their little triad were to split up, two people would till be whole, the 1's. But one would be divided into two, 0.5, split between the others, broken.

Minho didn't want that, he didn't want to be split in half, because what if they couldn't add themselves again, what if he would remain split in two forever. No Minho wouldn't have that. So when his partners fell asleep, Minho ran.  
He ran like his life depended on it, which it kind of did.

Minho loves the feeling of his aching limbs working through the pain, loves the feeling of the wind blowing against his face and the feeling of his feet hitting solid ground. Loves the smell of morning, when the air is clear, free from the people who will later poison it during the day, clean.  
When Minho's five o'clock alarm goes off he starts running back, he doesn't push himself as much this time, already exhausted from his sprinting earlier. He enjoys the crisp air and the way the city is slowly coming to life on his way back. 

When he reaches their apartment he hesitates for a few seconds, what if they're gone? what if they left as soon as they saw that he was gone? The idea sounds completely irrational in his head but perfectly plausible in his heart.

He decides that he's being ridiculous, he is not some weak teenager stuck in a High School love triangle, he is a grown man with two boyfriends who he loves very dearly, even though he has a hard time showing it sometimes.  
He opens the door quietly and makes his way inside, he tiptoes his way through the corridor but is stopped by a voice, "where have you been?"  
It doesn't sound angry, just confused, "out" is his answer and he wishes he didn't sound so cold, "oh," Newt's frowns and looks down, Minho wants to go over and hug him but his pride stops him and so he stays still.

"Are you angry with me?" Newt's quiet voice fills the room and , even though, his words weren't spoken in more than a mere whisper, the words sounds like a shout to Minho, they pull on his heart strings and he feels himself slowly breaking down a little inside. I'm not angry, I'm just scared, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to cooperate with his brain.  
"Yes" no! that's not what he wanted to say, he sees the emotions on Newt's face flash from confusion, to sadness to anger and back to confusion. "Why?" he questions, his voice harder this time, more forceful, he wants answers, but Minho is mute. Everything he's ever wanted to say, gone, his mind completely blanks and for a second he really believes that he's dying, he can't speak, he can't hear, and so he closes his eyes. And waits. He doesn't know what he's waiting, is it death? A bright light? A slap?

He waits.

Until a tentative hand lands on his sweaty neck, he opens is eyes and is met by concerned baby blues staring up at him, looking into his eyes as if he's trying to see into his soul, to know what he's thinking and feeling.  
Minho doesn't know himself what he's feeling right now, everything is just too much. He backs away from Newt, like a frightened animal and Newt's eyes grow even more concerned, he's never seen Minho like this before, the younger always so confident; now cowering away.  
"Minho,"

"I don't want to be your 0,5" he says so quietly he's afraid Newt didn't hear him and he doesn't think he can say it again. Newt doesn't know what to say to that, out of all things Minho could have said he didn't expect that.

"What are you talking about?" he says, confusion clear in his voice, he doesn't understand what Minho is babbling about.  
"We're three. You can't divide three with two without ending up with decimals. You and Thomas love each other, and you love me too, but it's not the same and... You and Thomas...you're the 1's, and I'm 0.5, and I don't want to be split between you two!" he's shouting in the end and Newt backs away.  
Like Minho's voice has physically pushed him back.

"What's goin' on?" a sleepy voice from behind Minho sounds and Minho turns around to see the youngest one in their relationship with an all too big t-shirt hanging off his left shoulder (Minho assumes it's his) and hair sticking up in every direction.

And Minho can't handle this right now, because Thomas's puppy eyes always make him forget what he was unhappy about, perhaps a little too easily; because love makes amnesia more pleasant than a disease should be. 

"Minho is rambling on about not wanting to be 0.5, whatever that means" Newt rumbles and Thomas's eyes go wide, "is it because of what I said last night? because I wasn't talking about our relationship Minho, I was simply talking about my maths homework, I swear."

Thomas is more than awake now, he takes a few careful steps closer to Minho, as if approaching a dangerous animal who can lash out at any moment, "you're not 0.5, none of us are, and besides, why do we have to divide it in two anyways, splitting it in three works fine too right?" Thomas looks with hopeful eyes at Minho.

"That way, we're all 1's" Minho looks over his shoulder to see Newt looking a litte confused but hopeful, "I don't want to be 0.5."

"You're not, "Thomas takes a step forward and places his hands on Minho's shoulders, he let's them stay there and squeezes lightly, "you're not split in half."

Minho looks Thomas in the eyes and sees nothing but truth, Newt's arms circle around his waist and squeezes him tightly. Minho melts into his touch and closes his eyes, "Minho" Thomas mumbles and Minho knows that he doesn't want him to respond, Thomas likes to do that sometimes.

Say their names just because they're there, Thomas leans up and places a fleeting kiss on his lips and Minho's lips curl into a small smile.

"I should write a book about this, lots of drama and metaphors" Newt mumbles into Minho's shoulder and Thomas snorts, "just don't make it too cheesy" Minho says with a smile on his face and Newt laughs into his shoulder, "what? you're too manly for that?"

"Shut up."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god I made this so cheesy! I'm sorry, all mistakes are mine, comment, please :)


End file.
